


you're not very good at issuing orders, but so very good at following them

by onlybylaura



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, We Do Not Condone The Cohort In This House But Maybe We'll Write Smutty Fanfiction About It, i can't believe i found yet another gideon ship for me to be obsessed with, judith is just a truly gay idiot, slight porn without plot, the dynamic is basically just bratty princess/obedient soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlybylaura/pseuds/onlybylaura
Summary: The Tridentarii twins’ birthday party was usually the event of the year on Ida, in the Third House. Everyone who received an invitation had to go.Judith Deuteros received the invitation, and she didn’t want to go at all.Judith knew how all Third parties turned out, especially the twin’s parties, and especially for her. Crying and wanting to go home when she was little. Annoyed and ignored in her tweens. And then, in her teen years, it had taken a turn.
Relationships: Judith Deuteros/Coronabeth Tridentarius
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	you're not very good at issuing orders, but so very good at following them

The Tridentarii twins’ birthday party was usually the event of the year on Ida, in the Third House. Everyone who received an invitation had to go.

Judith Deuteros received the invitation, and she didn’t want to go at all.

Judith knew how all Third parties turned out, especially the twin’s parties, and especially for her. Crying and wanting to go home when she was little. Annoyed and ignored in her tweens. And then, in her teen years, it had taken a turn.

It’s not like the Second needed a relationship with the Third. It’s not like she needed to go and do another report on the Third’s activities, it’s not that her supervisors would even ask what went on. They were always the same, and it wasn’t like her relationship with the Tridentarii wasn’t already fraught.

Fraught was an understatement.

Judith didn’t mind Ianthe, the squalid twin who hated everyone. Judith didn’t mind the Third House rulers, with their outstretched arms and open smiles. Judith didn’t even mind fucking Naberius, the most aggravating cavalier who had ever lived. Judith did mind Coronabeth.

It had always been the same for them. A game of back and forth, provoking, and then forgetting the next instant. There had been good moments, though, moments that were almost unreal, when she compared it to the bad ones—the pantsing incident, which Judith mostly refused to think about, and mostly attributed to the fact that they were eight. To be fair, Coronabeth was already a menace at seven years of age, so Judith surely had it coming.

Corona had taught her to be smart. Corona had taught her to trust not even the people whom she had known the longest.

Corona had taught her to keep her enemies close, and her friends even closer.

Judith went to the party. Of course she did.

She wore her best Cohort uniform, with golden epaulets that matched the ridiculous Third decoration. She ate the food. She made conversation with those who recognized her. She sipped the wine, too sweet and rich for her taste, watching the rest of the room. It was just like all the other Tridentarii birthday parties. There was booze, there was food, there was the asphyxiating atmosphere of rich people who never had a single worry in their life.

Judith had seen Corona, quickly, amongst the crowd which she fluttered through like a butterfly. Ianthe, ever pale by comparison, drank alone on another side of the room. Judith thought of joining her, if only to hear the complaints about her sister—though Ianthe had never muttered a word about Corona by herself, not where Corona couldn’t hear her. Maybe Judith should have brought Marta along. They had just taken their oaths, but they'd known each other all their lives. Marta wasn’t fun, but she was sure of a hell lot better than this funeral. 

When Judith caught sight of the pompous Naberius, flexing what seemed to be a jacket with epaulets made entirely of jewels, she knew it was time to go. She had done her duty, she had paid her respects, as she ever so obediently did. No one would blame her for leaving the party early. She could claim she had a headache, that she had the strategy of the  _ Rigor _ to go through in the morning.

She could claim anything she liked, and no one would even ask.

Putting down her glass in the nearest table—also decorated with jeweled fountains—she turned around to go. She knew the passages in and out of the castle of Ida by heart, learned as a child and never forgotten. The reason why she knew the paths did not help in trying to leave as soon as possible, and to every door, she had a different memory. 

She shouldn’t have drank. She could have eaten more, perhaps; she had to admit the food on the Third was much better than the Cohort helpings in any flagship.

When she reached one of the more deserted corridors, ready to send in a signal to her transport, she heard the shuffling of flimsy fabric, and she knew exactly who would be waiting for her when she turned back.

Still, she turned back.

Corona Tridentarius was wearing the most extravagant birthday gown. She’d seen a glimpse of it and turned away, but it was as golden as her skin—the shoulders bare, the skirt flowing, and there was a slit up to her knees on the side. Her arms and hands were full of jewelry, her ear lined with different-sized piercings.

She looked magnificent.

Of course, Corona knew how magnificent she looked, or else she wouldn’t have struck the pose, right in the middle of the corridor, confronting Judith with only a gaze. Judith did not step forward. She did not say anything, and she didn’t want to think that maybe it was because she’d been robbed of words.

She wasn’t going to talk to Coronabeth Tridentarius. They had nothing to say to each other.

“I heard about your promotion,” Coronabeth drawled, moving forward. It was a small victory, and something stirred in the pit of Judith’s stomach. “Congratulations, first lieutenant.”

“Thank you,” Judith replied curtly, cursing inwardly. What part of her own promise to not speak to Corona had she not understood? Had her mind not been clear on it?

“And you now have a cavalier, too,” Corona said. “It’s almost like you’re a real necromancer.”

Judith didn’t let the jab hit home. Corona and Ianthe had both been trained in house, both educated and sheltered within the beauties of Ida, never worrying about what happened outside. Judith had been a necromancer not just on the Cohort, but on the Blood of Eden planets. Judith knew more than Corona ever did about fighting, and she survived Corona’s blow much as she endured the wounds on the battlefield.

“Leave me alone,” she said, rispidly. “I have to be somewhere else.”

And then, just as she turned on her heels, a hand pulled her forcefully back.

Judith had trained all her life in the Cohort. For a necromancer, she was strong. Stronger than the other houses, trained for battle. She’d seen more blood than she ought by the time she was twelve, and she should have been hardened against any attack.

Still, Corona gripped her, pulling her back, and pinned her against the wall.

“So soon?” Corona asked, her head only slightly tilted so Judith could still admire the slender line of her jaw and neck. “It’s not even midnight. We haven’t even sung happy birthday. Don’t tell me you’re leaving before congratulating the birthday girl.”

Her fingers wrapped themselves tighter against her wrist. Judith tensed against the wall. She knew just the right thing to say.

“I already talked to Ianthe,” she said.

Coronabeth’s ferocious gaze burned within her, the violet sparking like flames. “Do you think this gets to me?”

“Of course not, Princess.”

The title felt rough on her tongue. Empty. It was meant as a sting, but it all came out as a statement of allegiance. 

“I’d hate to think that after all these years, you wouldn’t understand me,” Corona replied. She was close. Too close. Their mouths were inches apart from each other, and Judith did not want to flatten herself even more against the wall, afraid that this might lead Corona on.

“And I’d hate for you to think that I care,” Judith replied, her voice coming out vicious.

Corona laughed. Actually laughed. 

She had the laughter of bells, clear and high, and even her eyes were smiling openly in return. 

The laughter made it all worse.

“Unhand me, Corona,” Judith said, and in her voice, it sounded a little like begging.

“I don’t think I will.” 

“Let. Me. Go.”

“You’re not very good at issuing orders,” Corona said. “But you’re so  _ very good _ at following them.”

This time, there was no spoken rebuttal. Maybe because Judith was a soldier, and soldiers were meant to follow orders. Or maybe a part of her liked following the orders of the Princess of Ida.

Corona’s mouth was on hers before she could stop it. Corona tasted of the rich wine they’d all been drinking and she smelled like cheap perfume, which made it all worse. Her golden skin seemed opalescent under the chandeliers of the corridor, and before she could even think, Judith had closed her eyes and let her body do the rest.

Corona pressed her against the wall, her fingers quickly undoing the buttons of the uniform. They opened with such ease that she should make a note to the Cohort attire committee. Corona smeared her red lipstick the same color of Judith’s sleeves across her neck, her mouth plunging down, and her hands holding Judith tightly in place.

There was a part of Judith that was deeply aware of how this was going to go. She’d traveled the same road more times than she ought. Corona had caught her unawares the first time, when they were twelve, when the princess had badmouthed the Cohort simply because she did. Judith had never felt so humiliated, picking her things up, ready to leave again.

Corona had found her in another of Ida’s palace corridors, planted a kiss right on her mouth as a way of apologizing. Not that Corona would ever truly apologize. Sorry wasn’t in her vocabulary.

It wasn’t on Judith’s, either. 

That was another thing Corona had taught her. 

Still, none of this stopped her from enjoying it. Corona’s nimble fingers squeezed her against the wall, her mouth trailing down her neck into her breasts, and Judith knew that there was a chance another person would walk in on them, and Corona wouldn’t even blink. Corona never thought twice about anything she was doing, and it’s what had gotten Judith in the first place.

Her fingers trailed down, playing with the belt of the uniform.

“Corona,” Judith said. “Coronabeth.”

Corona stopped, the belt half unbuckled. 

“Maybe there’s something you should say,” Judith said, trying to make her voice even. Trying to ignore the prickle of her skin that Corona’s sharp nails caused down her belly. 

“Is there?” Corona asked, tilting her head slightly. “Do I need written permission for the first lieutenant now?”

Judith had learned not to blush when Corona was looking at her like that. She met the violet gaze with her own dark eyes. Corona was taller than her, her hair wilder and prettier, and she was, as always, exceedingly gorgeous. It was impossible not to notice. A blind dead skeleton would recognize it even without photoreceptors. It was impossible not to think about Corona and  _ beautiful _ in the same sentence.

If she had to ever write a report on what happened at the party, Judith had no idea how she would stay impartial throughout. 

“Maybe an explanation,” Judith offered. “As to why this is happening.”

“It’s my birthday, but maybe it’s your lucky day,” Corona replied. Her fingers went down from the belt Judith didn’t even feel her unbuckle. 

Judith clenched her legs as Corona caressed just the right spot. She hadn’t even touched skin to skin, but the touch made her shudder. She tried concentrating on anything but Corona pinning her against the wall, her rumpled uniform, her breast exposed as Corona played.

And did she play.

Corona knew how to press all her buttons. It was the years of practice, the years they had spent learning each other. Judith’s mouth gasped against Corona’s, sighing softly, a throaty sound at the bottom of her throat that almost made her run in shame. Corona never faltered, because of course she never did, one hand pressing against her breast, the other pressing down, circling Judith, and her mouth leaving the clear marks of red down to her neck. 

When she was just about to finish, Corona whispered, “Isn’t this what you came here for?”

Judith almost missed the whisper, and her muffled groan as she buried herself in Corona’s shoulder could have been an answer, except it wasn’t.

It always came to this.

Corona came to play. Judith never did.

Corona pressed a kiss to her lips, softly this time. Her breath hitched, and she was sweating too. Judith took it all in.

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t.”

Corona rolled her eyes, lined in gold. Anything in the room would lose its shine when compared to her. 

“Don’t be a twit.” Then, “It’s not that different from last time.”

It wasn’t, and not the time before, and not the one before that. Of course she’d hoped to come here for that. And of course there was a part of her that expected that it would be different. That there would be some permanent, violent reaction, that one day, Judith would get the satisfaction of seeing a part of Coronabeth Tridentarius crumble before her.

It was never fucking different, and Judith had no reason to expect it to be. She had it all coming.

With Corona, Judith always had it coming.

“Eventually, it will be,” Judith said. 

Corona blinked away her concern. “But not right now.”

“What do you want me to say?” Judith asked, her dark eyes searching for an answer that she wasn’t even sure was there.

“Judith, I want you to shut up,” Corona breathed, “and kiss me.”

This time, Judith did shut up, but only because her mouth was too busy somewhere else. She’d found her answers staring straight in those violet eyes. She knew it before Corona had even called her name. She knew it, and she forgot it, and it was, all of it, deliberate. 

Corona gripped her hair with her fingers, and Judith could feel the metal of the rings digging into her scalp, keeping her grounded. Her fingers looked for the piece of lingerie that should be between her tongue and her objective, but of course Corona wasn’t wearing any. Her knees hurt on the floor, and still she didn’t get up, her mouth flooding with the taste. Corona’s legs started faltering, but Judith held them up, propping them on her shoulder as the sighs grew faster, the rhythm increasing.

Just at the right moment, when Coronabeth was wincing against the wall, her soft moans escaping her lips, Judith stopped, her breath coming out in gasps, the taste of Corona still on her mouth. Those violet eyes looked down, half in schock, her red mouth puckered and wordless.

No one refused the Princess of Ida.

No one would leave her there, in a place where she couldn’t even boast about it later.

That was the true blow, the one that landed home.

“Haven’t you had enough?” Judith asked, looking up, her voice surprisingly even. A part of her still wanted to come back to finish it. A part of her still wanted to obey. “Toy with someone else, Corona. Happy birthday.”

She left Corona there, adjusting her uniform as she got up, but to Judith’s credit, she didn’t look back. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my girlfriend for revising this while i just basically drafted in a fugue state and then later sending me to horny jail. i'm absolutely OBSESSED with this ship and i will not stop.


End file.
